


Permanent Choices

by Isis_McGee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, F/M, Fluff, Tattoo Artist Dean, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3260687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis_McGee/pseuds/Isis_McGee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo Harvelle walks into Dean Winchester's tattoo parlor and it changes things.</p><p>Aka: Chestervelle Tattoo AU Fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permanent Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the cold/winter theme of January for the SPN OTP Fic a Month challenge

Jo Harvelle twisted the studs in her ears before she tucked her hair under her hat. She would tell anyone who asked that it was because she was cold, but anyone who really knew her would see through the lie that was and know that it was out of nerves. If Charlie were with her like they’d originally planned she would have called her out on it; as it was, Jo was by herself as she walked into Ink 67 with the wind pushing her in through the open door.

Jo had heard people around town rave about the work done at the place, but she'd never actually stepped inside. She'd been planning on it for a long time now, but between her mother and her nerves, she'd never been able to just buck up and do it. Not that stepping into the place was the same as actually getting the tattoo she wanted, but it was a step and one that wouldn't let her back down.

The walls were covered in art; not just flash and tattoo ideas, but pictures of muscle cars and highways and a few encased weapons. Jo's eyes lit up at the wicked looking knife high on one wall, jagged and well worn. An ivory handled engraved pistol was displayed near it as well, a photograph of a black car separating the two. Jo was so busy looking around at the decorations on the walls that she didn't realize she was still standing in the doorway and was getting stared at by the man who'd just emerged from the backroom at the sound of the door.

"Can I help you?" he asked, not impolitely.

Jo startled at his voice and was glad her cheeks were red from the cold to hide her blush at her reaction. The man smirked a little at her.

"Sorry," he said. "Why don't you come on in and tell me what I can do for you."

Jo nodded and wiped her boots on the mat as she walked further into the shop. She pulled her hat off her head and ran a hand through her hair before speaking.

"Um, I was hoping to get a tattoo?"

"That a question?"

"No?" Jo said with a cock of her head. The man smirked further. Jo failed to ignore the fact that he was beautiful, with bright green eyes and soft looking spikes of dark blond hair. He had a loop through the center of his pouty bottom lip and there were black plugs in his ears. They were much smaller than she'd expect of a tattoo artist, but the ink she could see on his forearms where his plaid sleeves were rolled up was exactly what she'd pictured.

"Sounded like a question," he told her.

"It's not. I want a tattoo." Jo's voice came out a little harder than she'd meant for it to, but she was glad of it when the man's eyebrows raised. She felt like he was mocking her.

"Well, alright, sweetheart, come tell me what you want."

"My name's Jo," she said as she approached the glass counter where the cash register sat and body jewelry was displayed. He nodded mildly and started to pull out a clipboard from a drawer. "Not sweetheart," she clarified.

He straightened up and regarded Jo's face for a moment. "Okay, then, Jo. Did you have something in mind or were you hoping to just get some flash to piss daddy off? On your foot maybe?"

Jo felt a stab of anger lance through her. Her hand curled into a fist in her pocket.

“Look, asshole, this isn’t the only tattoo parlor in town and does your boss know you treat your customers like this?”

“I am the boss. Dean Winchester, owner,” he said and stuck out his hand. Jo didn’t reach for it.

“Wow, you’re great at your job then,” Jo said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She didn’t let Dean get a word in edgewise before she went on. “Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean‒”

“Whoa, hey, Jo, it’s got nothing to do with you being a girl.”

Jo raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. Dean held his hands up.

“It’s got more to do with the fact that you came in so nervous.”

“So what? You want to scare away all your first time customers?”

“Honestly? Yeah.”

Jo felt her anger deflate and turn into confusion.  Dean could see it on her face.

“Look, I get so many college kids who come in here hoping to rebel during their first night of partying that I’d rather scare them off. I’m not going to be responsible for someone else’s lifetime of regret.”

“You’re covered in tattoos,” Jo pointed out. “Do you regret them?”

“Of course not, this is my life. I’m not letting some pre-law student come in and get Daffy Duck tattooed on his face is all.”

“I look like I’m pre-law? Or thinking about getting a cartoon character anywhere?” Jo asked. “And aren’t those ideas a little traditional for a guy making his living from tattoos?”

Dean smiled wryly. “Long story.” Jo found herself thinking that she wanted to hear it, but it was clear Dean didn’t exactly want to tell it right then. He tapped a finger against the paperwork on the desk. “So, if you want a tattoo today, I need you to fill out this paperwork. Depending on what it is you want, I might need some time to draw it up, but we’re not exactly turning people away today, so that’s alright with me. If you’ve got a class or something‒”

“I’m not a student,” Jo interrupted. She knew it was easy to assume, since she was young and in this college town, but she didn’t want to get lumped into the crowd of rebellious teenagers with their parents’ money that Dean clearly thought of as the college crowd; if Jo were being honest, she was in agreement with him. Working at her mom’s bar on a Wednesday night when half the campus came through so they could sleep through their classes in with a hangover the next day did that to her and she wasn’t particularly sorry about it. “My mom owns Harvelle’s Roadhouse.”

“Your mom is Ellen Harvelle?” Jo nodded. Dean whistled low. “You sure you wanna get a tattoo then? All that woman ever did was tell me how I ruined myself with all this ink on me. ‘s why I stopped going in there.”

Jo snorted. “My mom doesn’t scare me,” she lied.

“That makes one of us.” Jo laughed a little. Dean’s voice softened. “Sorry about the daddy comment earlier. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well, how could you. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. But alright,” Dean replied. He tapped a finger against the clipboard.

Jo stepped right up to the cabinet and took the paperwork from Dean, sliding the pen out from under the clip and getting to work on filling it out.  She could feel his eyes on her as the pen scratched against the page. A light blush crept up on her cheek as she checked that she hadn’t taken any blood-thinning painkillers within the last 24 hours. When she slid the clipboard back across the cabinet, Dean was smirking at her.

“What?” she asked, sharply.

Dean shook his head and glanced over the paperwork.

“Okay, this all looks fine.” His expression turned serious. “So tell me what we’re doing.”

The paper Jo pulled out of her back pocket was worn and creased from being folded over so many times. Her hands shook a little as she unfurled the notebook paper to reveal the pencil drawing. It was clear it’d been around for a long time and had been changed, tweaked and reworked and fixed up, often. Jo tried to straighten it out further as she pushed it across the glass. She didn’t seem to want to let it go, but Dean pried it from her.

It was fairly simple in theory: a small knife, small bits of rust drawn in the blade and a faint etching of initials on the handle, with three simple birds carrying a banner that wrapped around above and below the hilt. The banner read “Harvelle’s” above and “Est. 1982.” The proportions were the tiniest bit off, but the drawing was good. Jo bit her lip as Dean examined it.

“Where’s this going?” was all Dean said at first.

Jo crossed her right arm over her chest and patted her left shoulder blade as best she could. She didn’t qualify it with any words. Dean nodded.

“Okay. This shouldn’t take me long to draw. I can basically just trace your drawing, really. It’s pretty good.”

Jo blushed a little. “Thanks.”

“I have a suggestion though.”

“I thought you said it was good?”

Dean’s mouth quirked up. “I said it was pretty good.” He straightened up at Jo’s glare. “It is. But I still have a suggestion. Just about the birds.”

Jo pushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear and leaned over to look at the drawing where Dean had gestured. He picked up a pencil when he heard her say ‘ok.’

“We make the feathers and tails a little more detailed. That’ll make it a little more‒”

“American Traditional.” Dean nodded, and tried not to look a little impressed. “That’s what I was going for with the design.”

“No feathers though?”

“Couldn’t draw them right. I’d like them though.”

“Okay. Go ahead and take a seat and I’ll bring it out when I’m done on the light board, okay?”

Jo gave a little salute and picked up a magazine as she sat in the lumpy, busted couch that served as a waiting room. Her nerves were ratcheting up with every passing second that Dean worked, even though they’d calmed down during their conversation,  making her read the same passage from an article three times without realizing it. Her attempts to calm herself down were only marginally successful. She wanted this tattoo, had for a long time, but she knew it was going to hurt, even with her fairly high pain tolerance. She wasn’t exactly prepared to show her pain to this ridiculously good looking guy who made her blush just smiling at her. It was hard not to; not only was he cute, he hadn’t looked down on her when she said she wasn’t a student, and he hadn’t made a big deal about her dad, and he’d even complimented her drawing. She didn’t see a whole lot not to like so far.

Jo was so lost in her thoughts even though her nose was buried in the magazine that she didn’t hear Dean approach her across the carpet. She jumped when he said “What do you think?”

The drawing Dean showed her was hers, but perfected. The birds were more detailed, the lines straighter and surer, and the blade looked sharp even rusted.

“It’s perfect,” Jo told him without hesitation.

“Then time to get some of those clothes off.” Dean couldn’t stop the rakish grin that split his face. Jo tried not to laugh by pursing her lips. She wound up looking annoyed but still amused and she was mad at herself about it.

“You gonna buy me dinner first, Winchester?”

That got a laugh from Dean. Jo grinned and Dean jerked his chin back towards his work space. “C’mon, Harvelle.”

Jo followed him and arranged herself on the chair Dean had indicated. She tried not to make an issue out of slipping out of her coat and hoodie and slipping her bra and shirt strap off her shoulder. Dean touched her shoulder to let her know he was going to transfer the stencil. His hands were calloused, but so gentle that Jo felt something jolt through her, warm and syrupy. She relaxed, sinking further into the chair, but felt energized at the same time.

“You ready?”

Jo had barely nodded out a ‘yes’ when Dean brought the needle to her skin. It burned as it hummed and Jo bit her lip. She felt like a bee was stinging her, but it also lit her up. Dean hit a certain spot and Jo whined out a little bit.

“Don’t be a bitch about it. It doesn’t hurt that much,” Dean told her.

Jo’s response was to grit her teeth and turn to glare at Dean. She vowed not to show any pain from that point. When her shoulders tensed, she could almost feel Dean smirk.  

“My mom hated my dad’s tattoos,” Dean said out of the blue. “He took it to heart. Tried to pass it on to me and Sam, my brother. He’s out in California in law school. He’s a genius. I just took over the family business. For all it’s worth.”

Jo was silent.

“That’s the long story,” Dean explained.

“It’s not that long,” Jo responded. She let the buzz of the tattoo machine be the only sound for a moment. Jo caught a crush on Dean, right at that moment. “And if the way people talk about this place means anything, it’s worth a lot.”

Then it was Dean’s turn to be silent. Jo concentrated on the feeling of the tattoo being pounded into her skin and the way Dean’s hands felt on her skin, even through the gloves. She could hear her own breathing, loud in her ears, and she could hear Dean’s too.

“I should have asked before, but do you want color?”

“No,” Jo almost whispered. “This feels nice,” she murmured.

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Future junkie, right here, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Dean laughed again. He was working on the shading for the feathers and Jo almost moaned. The pain had turned completely to pleasure. She was in a haze the entire rest of the time Dean was working. It wasn’t until he tapped her on the shoulder and said, “take a look” that Jo even recognized what was going on again. She had thought that Dean working on her would fluster her, make her constantly aware of his presence, but the tattoo work made her wrong. She felt a little drunk as she stood up from the chair she’d been leaning on.  Dean used her other shoulder to steer her towards the mirror.

Despite the fact that it was a little inflamed and there were spots she was definitely bleeding, the tattoo on her shoulder looked like she’d always imagined it. She couldn’t speak for a moment, sure that if she did, her voice would break. Somehow, it felt like her dad. It felt like her family.

“Like it?”

All Jo could do was nod. She saw Dean try to hold back a smile. Jo wiped away the stray tears that had formed in her eyes and appreciated that Dean brought a hand to his neck and looked away from her as she did.

“It’s exactly what I wanted,” Jo told him.

“Good,” Dean said, his smile definitely visible then. “Let’s get this finished up then.”

Jo followed him to pay and when she did, she made sure that she caught Dean’s eyes.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Any time, Jo.” The teasing from before wasn’t in his smile then. It was completely genuine, and Jo wanted to see it more and more.

“I’m going to take you up on that,” she told him. And then she was walking out the door, hoping that she didn’t run into her mother as soon as she got home.

*

By the time that Jo convinced Dean to give her an apprenticeship, she had 5 more tattoos and the two had been dating for four months. The road there hadn’t been perfect, not like that first tattoo, and it wasn’t perfect still, but Jo got to come to work every day and be with a man she thought she might truly love and that mattered.

Plus, she was so close to convincing Dean to go to school for a Business degree that she was practically gloating already.  She definitely wasn’t regretting anything, especially not coming into Ink 67 two and a half years ago in the cold to make her own decisions.


End file.
